


not in love (don't forget it)

by quixoti



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marking, Praise Kink, but eventually coitus managed (twice!), cake batter flavored lip gloss is a drug and should be avoided at all costs, dennis gives a hell of a blowjob, show typical gendered swears, typical swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoti/pseuds/quixoti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dennis explores the scientific method in unorthodox ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not in love (don't forget it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Title taken from the song "I'm Not in Love" by 10CC.

 

 

It’s not like the movies. Not that Dennis expected it to be, because he didn’t expect any of it—but usually there’s a certain build up to this kind of thing, a sort of slow-burn self-denial ache that you keep inside until you can’t anymore. Dennis will wonder for a long time how he missed the warning signs.

The day it happened was surprisingly bland, stretching out into infinity like all the ones before it. It was hot, and Dennis was driving his degenerate roommate around because said degenerate can’t afford his own damn car. Dennis agreed to ferry Mac around only because Mac said Dennis owed him for something or other, and he had nothing better to do than hang out with Mac anyway. The windows were down, and Mac dangled his arm out the window listlessly, blabbering on about something or other that Dennis was tuning out. It was the same scene they’d played out a million times before, and probably would play out a million times more, and then Mac had to go and fuck everything up. Really, all he did was pull himself back in the vehicle and lean his arm on the armrest closet to Dennis, and stare at Dennis like he does when he thinks no one is looking. (He thinks he’s being subtle, but Dennis notices every time.)

Dennis lets him look, enjoying the ego boost, but when they stop at the next red light, Mac is still tracing his face with his eyes. Dennis turns to look at him instinctively, and Mac has the most private little smile on his face, and he just looks…content. Dennis has seen that face two other places in his entire life—people who just got fucked within an inch of their life and people who just came into a generous sum of money. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he snaps, mildly uncomfortable, but there’s no heat to it. Mac doesn’t stop staring, of course, but Dennis didn’t expect him to.

“Just enjoyin’ the view, bro,” Mac says innocently, playing it off like a joke, but Dennis hears the undercurrent he assumes Mac was trying to smother; it sounds something like desire.

Several things hit Dennis all at once, like a shit ton of bricks to the chest. He thinks about how long Mac’s been putting up with his shit longer than anybody, takes his more than anybody (everyone else but Dee and Charlie have long since skipped out, tired of the trainwreck). He and Dennis have been touchy-feely, always kind of have been, and how Mac only stares like that when he thinks Dennis can’t see him, and—and. Dennis remembers feeling that way about a girl in grade school.

Dennis has a theory. Mac keeps shooting these sidelong, shy glances at him all the way to their destination.

\--

As with all his god-awful ideas, Dennis peruses it mercilessly, knowing full well it’s likely going to bite him in the ass. He doesn’t care this time, though, this is some scientific method level shit; he has a hypothesis, and he’s going to get some conclusions. (Once, in college, some asshole named James Lipkin had insinuated that Dennis had no clue how to conduct proper research and belonged nowhere near a reputable college campus. Suck on this, Lipkin.)

His hypothesis is that Mac wants to fuck him. The first thing to do is to test your hypothesis by performing an experiment, so he heads down to the bar before Mac is awake one morning. Dee is nursing a beer (at 10:30 in the morning, honestly, Dee) and Charlie is staring off into space, apparently deeply concerned about something. Dennis figures if Dee is shameless enough to start the buzz before noon, he might as well too, and pours himself a shot before speaking.

“So,” he says loudly, rubbing his palms on his shirt before continuing, “Do you guys think that, maybe, let’s say hypothetically, Mac might have more than ‘friend’ feelings toward me? I’m just wondering,” he finishes lamely, downing his shot quickly, feeling faintly ridiculous.

“Duh,” Charlie and Dee say in unison, not looking at Dennis. “He’s so gay for you, dude, I don’t know how he sleeps with all that Jesus shit in his room at night,” Charlie adds cheerfully. Dee nods her agreement. Dee and Charlie go back to their respective tasks, apparently considering the case closed. Dennis feels, more than anything, an overwhelming sense of jealousy. How did Charlie notice this before him? Dennis wasn’t entirely convinced Charlie even had concrete thoughts, and yet even he’d managed to pick up on Mac’s Big Gay Crush. Dennis scowls and takes another shot.

“Alright, well,” he says smoothly, knocking his hip into the bar in his mad rush out of the door. This was certainly evidence, but it was inconclusive; Dennis trusted Dee and Charlie with accurate data about as much as he would trust a jewel thief with his money. It was time for Phase Two.

Dee and Charlie watch him go. “I wonder what that was all about,” Dee says a few moments after, sounding bored.

“Mac is totally gonna fuck your brother up the butt,” Charlie says with a kind of creepy glee. “15 bucks says I’m right.”

“You’re on, dickweed,” replies Dee, just as cheerful at the prospect of making money. “We need some ground rules, though…do I win if Dennis is the fucker instead of the fuckee? Does any kind of sexual contact count toward you?”

“You sound overly involved in the details of the gay sex, Dee.”

“Shut up, Charlie.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” says Charlie, shrugging apathetically. And then, “We’re going to have to film it.”

 “Totally.”

\--

Dennis amps up his game for Phase Two. No more pussyfooting, no more beating around the bush and asking people for their probably wrong opinions. No, Phase Two involved working directly with the subject—one Mac McDonald—and running a series of tests to see how the subject reacts to stimulus.

 The first stimulus is physical contact. The idea is to see how much touching Mac will tolerate without making some snide homophobic “leave room for Jesus” remark about it. It’s not like he never touches Mac, but he doesn’t make a point of it, either. Dennis likes to be touched and to be touched by other people, that’s no secret, so maybe he secretly enjoys the touching aspect more than the strict limitations of science calls for, but no one has to know. Dennis would have no qualms with Phase Two if it involved, say, a big breasted attractive woman, but with your best friend? Your straight best friend, who had a tenuous grasp on personal hygiene at best, who also happened to be your roommate of many years and co-owner of your business?

  It’s weird. But not as weird as the fact that Mac never even offers up a token complaint about it.

 Dennis starts slow. He tries things like slinging his arm around Mac’s shoulder more often, whenever they have the occasion to be standing or sitting next to each other (which is quite a bit of the time since they spend most of the day together). He attempted to just do it at home, but when that got no reaction whatsoever, he ups the ante and starts doing it in public, in plain sight of everyone. When he claps his hand down on Mac’s shoulder behind the bar and stands close enough to smell his breath, no one says anything. Certainly not Mac. Besides the pointed looks from Dee and Charlie, and the fact that they seemed to be spending a lot more time together than usual, everyone acted like everything was just fine and dandy. In fact, Mac seems happier than ever; he hasn’t broken anything in a fit of rage in a few days and Dennis can count on one hand the number of times he’s yelled at someone in the last week. Which is so odd it’s almost upsetting. But Mac continues not to say anything, even when Dennis gets ludicrously over the top with it.

 In one incident that will come to be known as the Quasi-Sexual Bear Hug, Dennis wraps his arms around Mac’s chest from behind and starts talking quietly into his ear. Dennis feels absurd, like a kid trying to scale a surprisingly muscular and smelly jungle gym, but Mac just lets it happen. It’s ridiculous, it’s insanity—Dennis is so close to Mac that he could tonguefuck his eardrum and Mac is just standing there grinning.

 Dennis sighs, which has to feel weird against Mac’s face. This is inconclusive evidence, too; Mac’s probably just enjoying all the extra affection because of his neglectful and emotionally scarring childhood. Dennis stands there, still wrapped around Mac like paper on a present, thinking through it all. Dee clears her throat, breaking the still of the bar, and Dennis realizes that Mac is mixing drinks, just accepting Dennis’s presence as part of his body and working around it. It’s too much. Dennis hastily untangles himself and almost trips over himself in his rush to the bathroom. He leans against the door, and breathes hard.

Obviously, the only thing to do is to push the issue harder. It was time for Phase Three.

“Wonder what that was all about,” Dee says loudly, after Dennis has locked himself in the bathroom. She hopes Mac will comment, offer up some insight into why her brother was trying to climb him like a tree, but Mac just hums and takes a drink.

  Charlie full on giggles. “He has no idea!” he crows, and Dee doesn’t ask which “he” Charlie is referring to because both of them are clueless idiots. Dee nods, once, thinking about how freaked out Dennis looked when he charged into the bathroom.

“I wanna up the bet to fifty dollars,” Charlie says.

 Dee scoffs. “Do you even have fifty dollars?” she mocks, but shakes on it anyway. “You did catch Dennis trying to body morph with Mac over there on tape, though, right? We need that blackmail material.”

 “Of course I did! You act like I’m some sort of idiot,” Charlie replies, looking comically offended.

  Dee can see the tape recorder. The lens cap is still on.

\--

   There exists a major flaw with Phase Three, and it’s that Dennis never anticipated there being one. He figured that several days of prolonged physical contact could drive the most emotionally repressed man to confession. Honestly, he was a little hurt about how little Mac seemed to care about his attentions.

    It took a bit of thinking, but after checking his face for flaws in the mirror the next day, Dennis decides that Phase Three is going to be incredibly easy: he was going to entice Mac with his outrageous good looks. It wouldn’t be hard, already looking the way he does, but spending that much time together had probably desensitized Mac to his charms.

    Dennis does the only logical thing to do: he steals one of his father’s many credit cards and goes shopping.

  He goes to high end stores and asks the salesladies to help him pick out clothes that make him as attractive as possible. He had a new story for every store, something classy like it’s his and his girlfriend’s anniversary and he wants to look nice, or he has an important business summit coming up. The salespeople fell hook line and sinker for every tale (he even got some of their numbers.) When he’s satisfied that he has at least a week’s worth of absolutely gorgeous shirts, he does the next logical thing. He buys makeup.

  Dennis is no stranger to applying and making himself look good in makeup. He goes to the store and picks up some lowkey products that it won’t be obvious to Mac that he’s wearing makeup, as well as flavored lipgloss. He figures if he wants to go all the way, he might as well go all the way, and there has to be a reason chicks like that stuff so much.

  Phase Three of the research process goes off without a hitch. He manages to get all his new purchases, including the Sephora bag, into the apartment without Mac noticing. Dennis makes sure to continue the over the top physical affections, wouldn’t want Mac to think something was wrong. He wears the lilac shirt, the one the saleslady said brought out his eyes, and makes sure to wear the jeans that he accidentally took in too much at the thighs. It’s a squeeze, a hell of a squeeze, and he curses several times and stops to make a phone call to re-open his gym membership in the process, but he finally gets them on. His ass, if he does say so himself, looks great. Slathering on the makeup is actually less of a challenge than getting the jeans on. (The lip gloss tastes like cake batter. It’s delicious.)

  He takes one last look in the mirror. He looks a lot like a whore, all dolled up with his shiny lips and his tight clothes, but at least he looks like a classy one. All in all, he’s looked like worse things.

\--

 Phase Three was a greater success than Phase Two, if only because it gets an actual response out of Mac. It is, all in all, not the exact outcome he was hoping for.

 The day went well. Dee raised an eyebrow when he walked in, looking incredulous, but he didn’t really give a shit about her opinion anyway. And the person who mattered, the Subject, reacted. Dennis made it a point to have excuses to bend over in front of Mac all day (he carried around a bunch of pens just to drop them), and he heard several audible gulps. Dennis also managed to find more occasions to lean very close to Mac’s mouth, and when he pulled away Mac would be blushing and very obviously slightly on edge. Dennis was thrilled.

 However, by the end of the day, Mac still hadn’t said anything. He was quieter than normal, almost completely silent. Mac was the talker, the fireball of energy in the group only rivalled by Charlie, and the stillness in the air as they walked home should have been a giant red flag. Dennis hadn’t been paying attention; he’d been thinking about how to go about getting his hands on another container of lip gloss before tomorrow. Obviously, since Mac hadn’t commented on it but been flustered, Dennis was just going to have to dress nicer tomorrow and push him to the breaking point. But that cake batter lip gloss had been too irresistible to stop licking off, and the whole container was gone.

 When they got home, before Dennis could make up some excuse to run off to the store and grab some more beauty products that wouldn’t make Mac suspicious, Mac closed the door to the apartment and leaned against it, hard, and pinched his nose between two fingers. He looked like shit.

 Dennis stared at him.

  The silence had stretched far beyond the edge of awkward and into the realm of unbearable. Just when it was about to reach the tipping point of excruciating, Mac said, still not looking at Dennis, “What the _hell_ is wrong with you?”

  Dennis took a step back. “I,” he said, eloquently. And then, “You’re gonna have to be more specific, dude,” and laughs. He hopes it didn’t come out as shaky as it had sounded in his throat.

 Mac is looking at him now, an angry tic in his jaw. “Try this on for size, Dennis: the jeans you’re wearing are tighter than what prostitutes wear. You look like a fucking whore and you keep, you keep bending over in front of me!”

“I don’t look like a whore,” says Dennis petulantly. “And even if I do, I’d look like a very classy one, all right, Jesus.”

 Mac stares at him, jaw tight with anger. “Is this about that thing where you like to pretend you’re someone else to get your rocks off?”

 Dennis splutters. “No, this is not about that _thing_ , fuck. Fuck. How—how do you even know about that thing?” Dennis’s voice is dangerously high pitched, but he didn’t carefully perform gay research on Mac for over a week for Mac to start psychoanalyzing _him._ Dennis began to despair that Lipkin had been right in his assertion that Dennis knew jack shit about how to conduct research, but then Mac peeled himself off the door and started grinning like he’d just one some kind of prize.

 “You’re right,” Mac says joyfully, smiling his disconcertingly happy smile and dropping into a stage whisper. “It’s not about that at all! I know what this is about—you’re trying to make me flustered because you’re compensating for having a small dick!”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” says Dennis.

“It’s okay, man,” Mac says, annoyingly proud of himself for reaching such a conclusion. “Everyone feels bad about the ol’ bird sometimes. But I’m not sure how I feel about you using me as a remedy for little dick syndrome.”

  Dennis’s voice, meant to sound full of blithe incredulity, comes out cracked and squeaky. “Why would I wear makeup to make myself feel better about my genitals? That doesn’t make any sense!”

 Mac’s eyebrows shoot straight into his hairline and his voice comes out as a hiss. “You’re wearing makeup, dude? Seriously?”

  Dennis drags a long-suffering hand down his face. Some concealer comes off; he wipes it on his pants in disgust. “No. Yes. Whatever, asshole, I don’t have a small penis! You probably have a small penis! Mine’s perfectly long, and an average thickness! Plenty of people have complimented me on it.”

“Whoa. My dick ain’t small, dude,” Mac half-shouts, gesturing widely and vaguely phallicly. “Lil Mac is not easily contained, if you get what I’m saying.”

 This is probably the most surreal experience of Dennis’s life, and that’s saying something. It’s 2 am, he’s wearing makeup, and he’s having a shouting match about dick size with his roommate who may or may not want to fuck him within an inch of his life. Obviously, there’s only one thing to be done for it.

  “Prove it,” Dennis says.

  Mac splutters, goes red, turns away from Dennis self consciously. “How—you don’t expect me to just whip it out right here, do you?”

 “Oh, I’m sorry, is the living room not big enough for your massive schlong? I’ll go get the ruler,” Dennis says, stalking off into the other room to dig a ruler out of their junk drawer. When he marches back into the living room, Mac’s pants and underwear are folded neatly on the coffee table, and he’s staring down at his own flaccid dick as if he’s never seen it before. Dennis tries to swallow, but his mouth’s gone dry—Mac really wasn’t joking about not being small down there. Dennis wasn’t about to admit defeat at one over average flaccid dick, though, so he just brandishes the ruler and says, “Hands off, buddy.”

  Mac snorts. “What, you’re gonna stretch it out and measure it base to head? This is wicked gay, dude,” he says, and punctuates it with a nervous laugh.

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” says Dennis, and he sidles up to Mac with the ruler stretched across his palms. His hands are operating on some other plane than his conscious thought, and before he makes the decision to, his hands are on Mac’s dick and Mac is choking on thin air. Dennis tries not to let his hands shake.

 “Let’s see here,” Dennis murmurs, struggling to keep the ruler straight in his hands. “From base to balls, I’d say we have a good…oh,” Dennis trails off, because Mac is making this whining sound in the back of his throat, a desperate plea sounding thing, and when Dennis brushes his thumb over a vein on Mac’s dick it changes into a full on whimper. Dennis wonders if desperation is contagious; he brushes his finger down Mac’s length again, telling himself its for the research, and Mac starts to harden in his hands.

  From where he’s standing, it’s no chore to lean down and whisper in Mac’s ear. “Oh, Mac,” he whispers, grazing his teeth across his earlobe, “If you wanted me to get you off, all you had to do was say so.”

 Mac’s moan flies out hard, like someone punched it out of him. Dennis feels dizzy on the rush of the situation; he’s in full control here. Mac’s fierce flush is spreading from his cheeks down his neck and he’s not looking at Dennis, staring off to the side and worrying his lip between his teeth. Dennis, moving on pure instinct, uses his side advantage to manhandle Mac up against the wall. He pauses, letting his breath ghost across Mac’s face, and considers how to give the best handjob he possibly can. He’s not familiar with this whole thing, and he certainly doesn’t want to do a shoddy job of it. Dennis only realizes he’s just been standing there breathing on Mac when Mac barks out, “Dennis, Den, I’m not, I’m not gay, this doesn’t mean that I,” and it’s so small and scared sounding. Dennis is tired of the “only gay for god” mentality Mac has deeply internalized, but doesn’t say so. Mocking someone’s inner demons is more suited for pillow talk than a first time hand job.

“I know you aren’t, Mac,” Dennis consoles in his most soothing voice. “I also don’t wear cake batter lip gloss on a regular basis, and yet here we are.” He presses his lips to Mac’s  neck, once, twice. “Now, you need to tell me what feels good, because I’m kind of out of my element here,” he adds, and then starts moving his hand agonizingly slow.

“Uh, uhhm,” Mac stutters. “I, okay, I like it when she—they, go fast at first and then, and then speed it up a little, oh,” and Dennis obliges him. He’s getting surprisingly into this, it’s a lot easier than he thought it would be—a rhythm of two people snapping effortlessly into place. Dennis doesn’t feel like a changed man, just feels painfully aroused, but Mac looks like he’s on the brink of shattering into a million pieces. It’s a good look on him.

Dennis draws it out, wants it to be the best it can be. He sucks hickeys down Mac’s neck, nips at his jawline, drags blunt nails down Mac’s neck when he remembers that Mac likes that done to him. He tightens and loosens his hand, keeping Mac just on the edge. Mac’s stifled panting turns to choked out words that sound like “please” and “oh my god, oh my god” but mostly like “Dennis”. Dennis ruts absently against Mac’s thigh, slowing down his hand movements until Mac is shaking underneath him.

 “If you want something, just say it, Mac,” he murmurs into his neck, speeding back up just to feel Mac squirm in pleasure.

 Mac opens his mouth, presumably to answer, and then the key turns in Dennis’s lock.

 “How did you lose all the film to the recorder,” asks Dee shrilly, shoving the door open. “They’re gonna get home any minute, we’re never gonna get the camera planted!”

“Well, I’m so sorry that I got mugged, Dee,” Charlie says exasperatedly. “Just get that into your brother’s room and we’ll be on the way.”

“Shit, fuck,” Dennis swears in a panic, jumping back from Mac like he was burned. “Pull up your pants, dude, oh my god.”

Mac is truly a sight to behold; his dick red and leaking and dangling out of his pants, his neck dotted with hickeys and lip gloss remnants like constellations, breathing hard and heavy. He’s sluggishly struggling to get himself back in his pants when Dee and Charlie stomp their way into the living room.

Dennis is so hard the blind could see it. “Fuck,” he says, eloquently, as Dee and Charlie’s jaws hit the floor. Dee drops the camcorder.

Everyone freezes and stares wide-eyed at each other. “God damn it, Charlie,” sighs Dee, fishing a fifty out of her purse without breaking eye contact with Dennis.

\---

“My dick is totally bigger than yours,” Mac says later, sleepy and smug. He sounds content, tangled up in Dennis’s soft sheets like he belongs there. Dennis leans over the side of the bed to grab his lighter and cigarette pack that he keeps underneath it, for times like this. He lights up before replying.

“My dick,” Dennis declares, pausing to blow a smoke ring contrarily at Mac, “is not small. I’ve had numerous people say it was on the upper side of average, actually.”

Mac laughs a deep belly laugh. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.”

Dennis doesn’t know what they’re doing here. Mac is hogging all the blankets, bare skin covered in scratches and bites, practically glowing in satisfaction. Dennis usually kicks girls out right after the fact, doesn’t have time for the pillow talk and the emotions that follow after. But what was he gonna do? Throw Mac out on the street with a “well, it was great, call you some time”? Dennis was a grade-A asshole and had no problem admitting it, but he wouldn’t fuck Mac over that way. Mac was his best friend.

After much shrieking and like a million Hail Mary’s from Mac, Dee and Charlie and fucked off, and Mac had turned to him looking terrified. “What do we do now,” he’d said very quietly, tense and upset, and Dennis looked him up and down with desire something approaching pity.

“Well now,” he’d mused, snaking his fingers through Mac’s belt loops and pulling him closer, “are you still turned on?”

“Yeah, yeah, I,” Mac stuttered, closing his eyes.

“I can’t just leave you like that, now can I,” said Dennis, voice low and dark. He brushed his hands across Mac’s crotch and delighted in the gasp it elicited.

“Come on,” Dennis insisted, talking directly into Mac’s ear. “Come on, let me take care of you.”

Mac let him.

They hadn’t gotten to penetrative sex, too worked up to bother with the prep, but Mac’s mouth and hands far more than made up for it. Dennis had never been into frenzied frottage and handjobs, but when Mac sucked on Dennis’s fingers like he was giving him a blowjob, Dennis had come and come hard. One flick of the wrist later and Mac was coming, too, moaning and shaking underneath him. When Dennis rated the sex tape later, he would give it 9 out of 10 stars. He’d never had a 10 star lay before.

Mac seems content to lay there and share Dennis’s space for forever. The implication terrifies Dennis. It feels too comfortable. He lets the cigarette burn out and then flops over to stub it out. “You know,” he says, his back to Mac, “you never got a good look at my dick last night.” Dennis feels drunk, doesn’t know why he’s saying these things. He never sleeps with the same person twice. “I think..I think that some more testing is in order,” he adds, trying to sound completely serious. When he turns back over to look at Mac, Mac’s grinning up at the ceiling, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Is that so,” Mac drawls, trying to sound uninterested. Dennis walks his fingers up Mac’s leg very slowly until his hand is resting on Mac’s upper thigh.

Mac squirms. “I think I could get behind that,” he says finally, looking at Dennis straight in the face for the first time.

“Good,” says Dennis, and moves in to bite at Mac’s lips.

“Eww, dude, brush your teeth,” Mac laughs, scrunching up his nose in displeasure and ducking out of Dennis’s reach. “Your breath smells like Charlie’s apartment.” Dennis kisses him right on the mouth, just for the reaction.

(Mac takes his crosses off the wall, later. They don’t talk about it.)

\--

Dennis has Mac backed up against the wall of a stall at Paddy’s and is fighting with Mac’s zipper, trying to tug his pants off and onto the filthy floor. Mac’s making these small, punch breathy sounds and knotting his hands in Dennis’s hair. “It reeks in here,” Mac says unsteadily, but he’s not pushing Dennis off. Of course he isn’t.

“You won’t be complaining in a minute,” Dennis promises, voice sweet as honey, licking a stripe down the column of Mac’s throat. “You know this is the only room that has an actual working lock in this whole bar.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mac blabbers, sounding winded, “but we could have least—Fuck, Dennis,” he trails off as Dennis manages to yank his pants off. Dennis sinks to his knees on the grimy tile and looks up at Mac innocently.

“You gonna let me suck your dick or not?”

Mac flushes. “Don’t let me stop you,” he mumbles, tightening his grip on Dennis’s hair.

“Mmm,” Dennis says, and then wraps his lips around the head of Mac’s dick.

Mac says a string of words filthier than any bathroom floor. Dennis is certain several of them were made up on the spot. Dennis doesn’t have much experience with this but Mac doesn’t seem to care. Just keeps grunting and saying “you’re so good, Dennis. S’good,” and yanking on his hair like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded on the earth.

Dennis shudders at the praise. Leave it to Mac to push his buttons without even knowing it.

“Say that again,” Dennis breathes, pulling off to rub some of Mac’s precome across his lips. Mac looks very  tenuously held together. “Say that again,” Dennis repeats, looking at Mac pointedly.

Dennis sucks Mac down again, deeper this time. “You’re so good at this, Dennis,” Mac groans. “You look so good with my dick in your mouth,” says Mac, sounding brave. Dennis nearly comes right then and there, goes wild with sucking and humming around Mac’s dick.

“Dennis,” Mac says, plaintively, stuttering his hips in and out of Dennis’s mouth. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” he says a few beats afterward, going to move his hands out of Dennis’s hair. Dennis snakes his fingers around Mac’s wrists to keep them in place.

“Come in my mouth,” Dennis says, pulling off for a split second. He barely has time to get the dick back in his mouth before Mac moans, loud, and come flood Dennis’s mouth. Dennis tries to swallow it all, knows how hot it is when girls do it, but a little escapes the corner of his lips and dribbles down the corner of his mouth. Dennis feels like he’s going to explode.

Mac leans back against the stall wall, looking fucked out and in shock. “I never—I never had a girl do me that good,” he says, looking pointedly away from Dennis. Dennis thinks there’s something important hanging in the balance here, something that needs to be said before its too late. Dennis never had a problem with the gay part of them, never occurred to him as a problem, but he knows how Mac feels about it, and Mac is cradling Dennis’s face with one hand and wiping his own semen off Dennis’s mouth with one finger and sticking it back into Dennis’s mouth. It’s hot as hell, and Dennis’s erection is pressing a hard, insistent line into his pants. Mac is gazing at him, slack-jawed, like he thinks Dennis hung the moon, and it’s a whole chemical other thing than any other sex he’s ever had.

Dennis Reynolds is not in love, couldn’t be in love with Mac if he tried. He doesn’t operate on the same emotional frequency as other people. He’ll never give Mac what he wants, not fully, and Mac might get fed up with it one day. Most people do. Being on your knees in a pigsty of a bathroom offers up a new angle, though, and from where Dennis is sitting, he thinks he’s willing to take the risk. Mac stokes his face, once, and then snatches his hand away like it was an accident. Dennis Reynolds is not in love, but he thinks that if he could be, this might be what it feels like.

**Author's Note:**

> Dennis eating all of the flavored lip gloss is based on a True Life Event where I, in fact, managed to eat a whole tube of that stuff by licking it off my lips and reapplying it within a day's time. I'd do it again.


End file.
